Current mood:

drip drop, slippity slop SPLAT

I've been feelin rather allergic lately, crap oozing out of random holes in my head and such... fearing another day of ruined mascara and harshly directed stares, I decided I should do somethin about it. I'm not a fan of doctors on a good day... all that poking and prodding... but, in an attempt to quiet my 'rents fears of a smallpox outbreak or something, I figured I'd haul ass and deal. Here is my story:

Normally, I would steer clear of anything with Trent and health in the same sentance, due to my serious doubt that information would remain remotely confidential. I felt dangerous today, so in I went.

I used that rediculous alcohol shit, you know, the stuff that is supposed to get rid of your germs... and promptly picked up my snot covered kleenex. Upon talkin to the nurse, she asked if I had the following symptoms... you know, all that SARS crap. I answered them.. fuckin nurses.

I was shunneed... treated like the SARS victim I'm not. Given a mask and made to stand at least a foot away from all others. You would'a thought I had leprosey or somethin... pffff! This adorable face, maybe my ass!

Anyways, I'm standing in the middle of the room, holding this frickin fairy mask to my face, figuring at least I'm gonna get some results. Nope. I can go in on Thursday.

Fuck that shit. I'll sit and suffer, perhaps find more globs of blood and mucus in my bed.

Apparently I'm infected. Not infected enough to get a stupid appointment. Well, let me tell you, I am infected... infected with RAGE. My eyes are red and my arms are swingin, watch out mother fuckers. I'm gonna sneeze on ya!